by Regina Scott
Mrs. Munroe actually went so far as to scowl. Chimes swallowed. Geoffrey turned to Allison, only to find that the marquis had already offered his arm. She accepted it and allowed him to lead her in. Mrs. Munroe eyed him. Geoffrey considered the situation, then swept her a bow. “Mrs. Munroe, your servant.” He offered her his arm. Her eyes narrowed, but she accepted it. He hoped it wasn’t shaking as he led her in.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he came to a stop in the wide parquet-floored entryway not far from Allison and the marquis. “You’re very kind, Mr.…”
Geoffrey hid a grin of triumph. “You’re welcome, dear lady. It is a pleasure to have you home with us again.”
“Thank you,” she repeated, studying him. He thought for a moment she had realized who he was, but then her brow knit in confusion again. He turned to Allison and Lord DeGuis.
“I will leave you to get settled, my lord, Miss Munroe. But before I go, allow me to extend an invitation from my mother. She would like it above all things if you could join her at a dinner in the marquis’ honor two nights hence.”
“I would be delighted,” the marquis assured him. “With my hostess’ permission, of course.”
Mrs. Munroe nodded blankly. “Certainly.” She raised narrowed eyes to Geoffrey’s face. “Please tell your mother that we would be delighted to accept. And the dinner will be held at your estate, I assume?”
Geoffrey bowed. He glanced over at Allison to find her grinning at him again. His heart sang. “Yes, Mrs. Munroe. Dinner will be served at the Manor at eight o’clock, if that is convenient for you.”
Mrs. Munroe paled. “The Manor?” She peered at him again, and her pallor deepened. “Yes, of course, the Manor. We shall see you then, Mr. Pentercast.”
Chapter Eleven
By the third day after they had returned to the Abbey, Allison decided that she was the only person in the entire world who had not gone mad. Either that, or she had gone mad and was hallucinating the entire affair. There simply were no other explanations for the state of things.
No one was acting as she would have expected, with the possible exception of her mother. Geoffrey was the worst. She couldn’t imagine what had gotten into him, fawning and smiling like an idiot when he’d met them all at the Abbey. She half expected him to offer to shine the marquis’ boots with his coat sleeve.
His behavior at the dinner party two nights later was even more uncharacteristic. Instead of insisting on walking beside her to dinner, he had offered his arm to her sister of all people, leaving a bemused Alan to escort her mother. As the senior person, the marquis had escorted the hostess as was proper, leaving Allison to walk alone at the tail of the line.
At the dinner table, Geoffrey never belched once, though Allison kept looking at him wondering if perhaps he might explode from the effort. He ate sparingly of each of the sumptuous dishes their cook had prepared and made pleasant conversation with Genevieve, who sat on his right. Allison, who sat across from him, wanted nothing so much as to kick him under the table to get his attention. Unfortunately, the large damask-draped table was much too wide for her to do more than to swing her foot through the air.
After dinner the three men lingered over their port for so long that Mrs. Pentercast fell asleep waiting, her tiny head bobbing to her ample breast and making her look like an overfed robin. Mrs. Munroe and Genevieve chatted about nurseries and feedings and layettes, leaving Allison out entirely. When the men did arrive, they were so nauseatingly chummy that she could only tap her foot and purse her lips. Neither Geoffrey nor the marquis seemed to notice. The Widow Munroe had been so impressed by Geoffrey’s behavior that she had magnanimously invited him to partake of any of the other events they might plan while the marquis was in attendance.
As for Lord DeGuis, his behavior also bore little resemblance to what she had expected. He rose each morning and rode the Arabian gelding he had brought with him, a dainty dun-colored creature with fire in his eyes and magnificent lines. His lordship spent his mornings hunting with Alan and sometimes Geoffrey and his afternoons reading or catching up on correspondence to his man of affairs or the stewards of his many estates. If Allison deigned to join him on any of his pursuits, he seemed quite glad for her company, but he did not seek her out or in any way force his attentions on her. In fact, he was so far from the importunate lover that Allison wondered whether she had dreamed her mother’s announcement of their engagement.
Chimes was acting nearly as civilized as the marquis, mincing about in the only coat he owned, even though his belly had outgrown it some time since, and attempting to take over every task assigned to Perkins. Perkins had at first reacted with typical high dudgeon, long nose in the air and back ramrod straight. However, of late, Allison noticed he had been letting Chimes do most of the work, stepping aside when the little man bustled forward. At first Allison thought perhaps the taller man had some heart after all, but then she had realized that it was not so much charity that let him allow Chimes to do the work, but a pronounced lazy streak.
Mrs. Munroe had tried repeatedly to tell Chimes that she wished Perkins to serve during their stay, but each time she did so, their cook Annie, Chimes’s wife, showed her displeasure by turning her usual mouth-watering meals into pure paste. In the end, Mrs. Munroe gave up the fight, at least until the marquis left. Then Allison shuddered to think what was to become of the elderly couple who had cared for the Abbey, and the Munroes, for so long.
Her sister was perhaps the most changed of all. The last time Allison had seen her, Genevieve had been glowing with the news of her first child. Other than her beaming face, no one would have known she was expecting. Now at seven months along, her sister was billowing out of any dress she attempted to wear. She still helped the dowager Mrs. Pentercast keep the Manor, but her activities were more and more conducted from the chaise lounge in the withdrawing room. It was there that Allison found her the morning of the day after they had dined at the Manor.
Genevieve hugged her close as Allison bent over the chaise, then patted the seat of the chair beside it for her to sit. “I’m so glad you’re back,” her sister exclaimed, all smiles. “We didn’t have much of an opportunity to talk last night. Tell me about the Season. I had your letters, of course, and Mother’s, but it wasn’t the same as talking with you.”
Allison smiled back. “It was an interesting Season. You know how it is: balls, parties, the theater. Truth be told, it all seems a bit of a blur.”
“And of your friends, how many collected proposals?”
Allison felt her smile fading. “Lady Janice collected any number of proposals, but she hasn’t accepted a one. Poor Grace didn’t so much as get a nod, unless you count the young man from York who nodded asleep in front of her. Cousin Margaret claims to be in love, but she refused to the end to tell me who had stolen her heart. I certainly never saw any particular gentleman paying her court.”
She could feel her sister studying her. “But I hear you are engaged.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” The words came out much too heatedly, and Allison sighed even as her sister frowned at her vehemence. “I’m sorry, Gen, but that is the way of it. Mother agreed to his proposal; I didn’t even know about it until a few weeks ago.”
“So, of course, you refused him. That must be why he repaired to the Abbey with you, to press his suit.”
“I haven’t refused him, exactly.” Allison had to stop herself from squirming under her sister’s sharp-eyed gaze. “How could I? Honestly, Gen, you cannot say I’ll find someone more handsome, or wealthier, or more polished than the marquis.”
The gaze didn’t falter. “No, I certainly cannot say that. So, you have accepted him, then?”
“Well,” Allison said, “no, although as you pointed out, he is here, so he must have some hope that I will do so.”
Genevieve studied her hands as they lay over her belly. “I’m sorry to press you, Allison. I simply wanted to hear you say it in your own words. But I certainly don�
�t get the impression you are in love with him, for all that he is magnificent.”
Allison sighed. “Oh, I wish I knew! I should be in love with him, shouldn’t I? Are we not agreed that he is the perfect candidate for my hand?”
“We are agreed that the marquis is a paragon,” Genevieve corrected her. “I for one certainly never agreed that he was perfect for you. Only you can say that, Allison.”
Allison sighed again. “Thank you for that. But I cannot say it, at least, not yet. I promised him some time in the country so that we might learn to know each other better.”
Genevieve nodded, then caught her breath and put her hand to her stomach.
Allison leapt to her feet. “Is something wrong? Shall I go get Mrs. Pentercast or your abigail?”
“No,” her sister replied with a shake of her head. She patted her belly and let her hand fall. “The baby just has a tendency to jump about at all the wrong moments. The other day when I was trying to inventory the upstairs linens, I thought perhaps my child had learned the gavotte. Perhaps we will finally have another to match your talent on the dance floor.”
Allison smiled politely, but she felt a twinge of guilt. Genevieve should be spending her time preparing for the upcoming birth. She hardly needed to worry over Allison’s problems of the heart. Allison resolved not to trouble her again.
But that left very few people to talk to as the days wore on. Her mother was preoccupied with baby matters, spending much of her time each day at the Manor with Genevieve; Chimes was too busy pretending to be a butler; and she had never been able to talk to Alan or the marquis. She did try writing to Grace, her cousin Margaret, and Lady Janice, but she agreed with her sister that waiting for a reply was ever so much less satisfying than speaking face to face. That left only Geoffrey, and she found she missed their discussions most of all.
She had no idea what devious acts Enoch McCreedy had perpetrated to bring about the change in Geoffrey, but she could see their effects. It wasn’t his smooth-tongued conversation that made her mother smile and the marquis nod appreciatively. The Pentercasts had long been capable of calling on a ready wit. Even though she had seldom seen Geoffrey use it before now, she was not surprised to find that he possessed the talent.
It certainly wasn’t the dapper morning coats or patterned waistcoats he suddenly affected instead of his tweed coat and rough trousers. His cravat was still nothing more than a knot at his neck, and she had yet to see him change his Hessians for evening pumps.
No, she sensed something more fundamentally different in his attitude. He stood a little straighter, and he smiled more easily as if he suddenly understood his place in the world and found great contentment in that. And whenever he accompanied them, she felt his gaze on her. Each time she met his look, it was thoughtful. He hadn’t winked at her since the day she’d arrived.
She was afforded ample opportunities to see him, what with her mother’s invitation that he join them in their outings and entertainments. He visited nearly every day. He was always courteous and charming, but distant somehow, like a banked fire deep under a layer of cool ash. By the second week of their visit, she had determined that she was going to have a private word with him if she had to be outrageously rude to do it.
Her mother had suggested that she take the marquis on a walk around the Abbey grounds that morning. Allison had wondered if even her mother thought Allison needed to get the man alone to get him to show his more passionate side. She found herself considering the possibility that he had no such side. It was a crying waste of material, but entirely possible. Still, she was all the more pleased when Geoffrey, Gen, and Alan called just as they were about to set out.
Geoffrey bowed to Mrs. Munroe and Allison, nodding a good morning to the marquis. Allison watched him. Could that be the slightest bit of tension in those broad shoulders? Could he be as frustrated as she was with the last two weeks or did he truly delight in playing the Society beau? He had been the pattern card of gentlemanly virtue. His mother had remarked on it, Alan had remarked on it, Gen had praised it, and even Allison’s mother had smiled at him. The only person who seemed displeased by his performance was Allison herself.
“Going for a stroll?” Genevieve sighed at her mother’s invitation to join the marquis and Allison. She lay her hand on her swollen belly and sighed again. “I’m afraid my days of strolling are nearing an end. Alan, why don’t you join them? I have a few things to discuss with Mother.”
Alan nodded wisely, and Allison noticed the look they exchanged. Now, what could they be up to? She was just as glad that Alan agreed to accompany them. It would give the marquis someone to talk to when she made off with Geoffrey.
They wandered through the gardens at the back of the house and reached the ornamental pond beyond. Hugging her blue pelisse to her in the early autumn sunlight, Allison pointed out her father’s flock of swans, the functioning bell tower on the Abbey, the forest surrounding them.
“If you follow the path to the left,” she said, nodding in that direction, “you climb a rise with an excellent view of the surrounding land. I promised my mother that I’d check the weir at the end of the pond. We had some trouble with it last winter, if you recall, Mr. Pentercast.”
Geoffrey blinked, as if he were surprised that she would single him out. Then his usual grin appeared, and she feared he would spoil everything. “Yes, of course, Miss Munroe. A dreadful flood, as I recall. You surely wouldn’t want a reoccurrence.”
“No, indeed,” the marquis concurred. “Do you need assistance, Miss Munroe?”
Allison smiled brightly at him. “Thank you, but I hoped to prevail upon Mr. Pentercast, as he was aware of our difficulties and so should be able to spot any new problem.”
“I’m sure Geoffrey will know just what to do,” Alan put in with a conspiratorial grin. “He’s had a great deal of experience studying farming recently.”
Geoffrey bowed. “Your servant, Miss Munroe. Gentlemen, we will rejoin you shortly.”
The marquis nodded, but Allison thought his eyes narrowed. She hurried Geoffrey away before her feeling of guilt could grow any larger.
They stood quite properly, at least four feet separating them, gazing down at the stone weir Alan had had installed to replace the wooden dam that had been destroyed on New Year’s Eve. Geoffrey stomped his Hessian on the edifice.
“Solid as the Empire,” he proclaimed. He looked up and smiled at her. Allison felt the blood rush to her face at the warmth of his look.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
Allison swallowed. The last thing she had expected was concern for her. It left her pleased and unsure at the same time. “I wanted to ask you the same question. You’ve been acting rather strangely since we returned. Did Enoch McCreedy really do this to you?”
Geoffrey laughed. “My time with Enoch was enlightening, but I can’t say he’s the reason for the change in me. You have more to do with that.”
“Me?” Allison asked in astonishment. “Why on earth would you say that? I haven’t seen you in more than four months!”
“But I see you, every day,” he replied, leaning closer, “in my dreams.”
Allison took a deep breath. “I’m glad you think of me, Geoffrey,” she told him truthfully. “I think of you often as well. Mostly, I miss you. Everyone around me is so stiff and proper. Can’t we just have fun?”
His smile commiserated with her. “As your sister likes to point out, we aren’t children any more, Allison. We all have to grow up.”
Allison made a face. “Grow up and grow old and stuffy. Honestly, Geoffrey, isn’t there more to life than witty conversation and a well-cooked dinner?”
“I certainly hope so,” he declared. “Don’t think I’ve grown that sedate, my girl. But I’ve come to realize that it’s time I settle down, settle down and get married.”
He was watching her again. The look brought the heat flooding back to her cheeks. She wondered suddenly if her sister had told him about her supposed
engagement with the marquis. She had forgotten to ask what with all the chaos around her. He had a right to know the truth about it. “I think Gen may have told you,” she started, the feelings of guilt returning, “that is, I think you know that…”
“You’re engaged to the marquis? Alan told me.” He said it so coolly. Why did she want more heat, more fire? “Is it what you want?”
“No!” she cried, surprised to find that she was still just as furious as when her mother had first announced the fact. “I didn’t know, Geoffrey. You must believe me. Mother agreed to the match without even consulting me.”
“I knew it!” The words exploded out of him. His arms came up and for a moment she thought he would gather her to him. Then he stiffened, lowering his arms. “Then you’ve refused him?”
She hung her head. “I tried, in truth I did. But at the time it seemed to me that his feelings were engaged, as if he has feelings in the same way we do. Since then I have begun to wonder again, but I dislike hurting him, and it is an honor to be asked.”
His voice was stilted, not at all like the Geoffrey she had known all her life. “Do you think you can grow fond of him?”
“Perhaps.” Allison sighed. “But fondness is far too little for what I expect of my marriage. Shouldn’t there be romance? Passion? Love?”
Again he looked on the verge of reaching for her, and again he stopped himself. She had never seen him so tense; his entire body was like an overwound spring in a clock. “If that is what you want in a marriage, then you should wait until you have it.”
She frowned. “But will it happen? Perhaps Mother is right, and I am too young to realize that this fondness is all there is. Certainly I cannot say my mother loved my father in the way I thought I’d love my husband. Did your mother and father love that way?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “If they did, they never demonstrated it in my presence. But if you want an example, look at Alan and Genevieve. A more besotted pair you’ll never see.”
Allison felt as if a weight had been lifted. “Yes, of course! Thank you, Geoffrey! You are right—love can occur, even in these times. I suppose it remains to be seen whether it can occur between the marquis and me.”